Their Home
by Richonne
Summary: Rick gives Michonne a shooting lesson. Carl has a verbal slip-up.


Rick had never seen Michonne in a pair of shorts before. She normally wore trousers for practical reasons of protection against walker bites and scratches. Before they'd settled into Sanctuary One, it wasn't pragmatic to run around with a lot of exposed skin. Now that threat was all but eliminated. They had a house with a fenced in back yard and Michonne had no issues with putting on a pair of cut-offs and a sleeveless tee-shirt that didn't quite reach her cut-offs. This left a yummy ring of exposed skin around her waistline that put thoughts in Rick's head of running his fingers over her to see if she felt as soft and smooth as she looked.

Today she was giving Carl lessons on how to handle a sword. The swords in question were made of wood, but Carl didn't seem to mind the training phase, however long it would last, until he could get to use real swords. He never missed a lesson, and Rick saw him practicing at least an hour every night in the back yard.

Now Rick sat on the steps to the back porch to watch the lesson. He had no desire to learn how to wield a blade, but he did have a desire to get an eyeful of the woman giving the lessons. She had a lean, fit, powerful body. She was also curvy in every place a woman should be. Her ass…good grief, she had the roundest, most perfect ass he'd ever seen.

"I think you're almost ready to move on to metal," Michonne said.

Carl smiled in excitement. "Really?"

"Next week. I'm going to dull the edges of the swords I picked up for training and let you get used to the weight. I think you'll do just fine."

They walked back to Rick, discussing the lessons they would have next week.

"Keep weight training. You'll need it when it comes time to start swinging real blades."

"Okay, Mom. I will," said Carl. He bound up the steps, past his father, completely unaware of the verbal slipup.

"That's the second time this week he's called me Mom instead of Michonne," she informed Rick.

He nodded and considered her well-muscled thighs for a moment. "I think he's adopted you. How do you feel about that?"

Michonne was aware of how Rick's eyes moved everywhere over her body except her face. The corners of her lips lifted in a small smile. "Honored. Worried."

"Worried? About what?"

She watched as Carl came back into the kitchen from putting away his practice sword. He ladled beans into a bowl and started to cut a slice of cornbread.

"I'll be leaving soon. I've been approved for an apartment in-"

Carl, having heard her, came rushing through the kitchen door. He looked hurt and angry when he said, "What do you mean, you're leaving?"

Rick and Michonne exchanged glances.

"Carl," she began, but he shook his head, unwilling to hear any excuses.

"You've been with Dad, Judith and me for almost a year! Now you just wanna leave? Why?"

"She's been approved for housing of her own in town," Rick tried to explain.

Carl ignored his father, keeping his eyes locked on Michonne. "This is your home. You said we're your family now. You said that you never thought you'd have a family again but then you found us. I thought that mean you and dad would…I thought you loved us."

"I _do _love you."

"But you still applied for housing in town? You're still going to leave us."

He stomped down the steps and started for the side of the house.

"You wait right there, young man," Michonne ordered.

Carl came up short and turned to face her. "What do you want? Help packing your bags?"

"I want a lot less sass, for one. Get back inside and finish your lunch. After that get caught up on your homework. Mr. Benson says you're way behind in math. I'll check it tomorrow afternoon. For now, Dad's gonna give me a shooting lesson. The noise will probably wake Judy, so you'll need to take care of her."

He shifted on his feet, looking between Michonne and his father.

"No arguments," she said, and pointed to the house. "Inside. Now."

He looked ready to disagree anyway, but her thunderous expression brooked no argument, or sass, and he caved. She caught him in a hug as he passed her.

"Don't you ever think I don't love you, your Dad, or Judy," she said quietly, and kissed his forehead. Carl squeezed her close and mumbled something that sounded like _I love you too_, and then hurried inside to do as ordered.

"What?" Michonne demanded, when she caught Rick grinning at her.

"Nothing. You ready to learn how to shoot, Mama?"

She returned his grin. "Let's go, Daddy."

"Your aim is shit," Rick said.

"Hey!" Michonne swatted at his arm. "I'm doing my best. I'm not used to this. I'm better with a sword."

"You're aiming high and jerking the trigger. Here, let me show you."

Rick stood behind her and helped her adjust her aim. He squeezed the trigger properly and the bottle they'd set on the post shattered.

"You do the next," he said, his lips close to her hear. She felt her belly flutter and found it hard to concentrate with his fingertips lightly skimming her arms.

She squeezed the trigger, taking out another bottle. Rick was distracted, however, by her scent. Her hair smelled like honeysuckle and fresh air. Her skin had a very light sheen of fresh sweat that he breathed in deeply. He was almost as surprised as Michonne when his lips found their way to her shoulder. He slid his hands down the side of her body, causing her nipples to harden in response. They came to rest on her waist and Michonne set the gun down on the battered old table before her. She turned to face Rick and their eyes locked, brown on blue.

"Stay," he said.

He pressed his lips to hers.

"Stay in my house."

He pressed his lips to hers again, a little longer this time, a little softer.

"Stay in my bed."

She sighed when he kissed her again, a gentle, undemanding pressing of one mouth to another.

"Be my woman. Be a mother to my children."

He gently slipped his tongue between her lips. They tasted one another. They felt one another, body and soul, in that single, gentle kiss. Her arms came to rest around his neck. She felt right in his arms. He felt right, pressed up against her, as though he should have always been there, as though everything she'd suffered in life had been to prepare her for this man as a reward. Neither of them had ever expected to find love again, after all they'd lost, but here they were, together, and happy.

"My children can be your children. This can be _our_ home, _our_ family, but only if you stay. Will you stay?"

Michonne nodded, determined she wasn't going to become emotional and tear up. Instead, she settled for another long, slow kiss.

"I'm not going anywhere. Let's get back inside so we can tell Carl."

"I think he already knows. He's watching from the kitchen window," said Rick, grinning, somewhat like an idiot, but he didn't care in the least if he looked a fool.

Michonne stroked a lock of curly hair from Rick's brow. "In that case, let's send the kids over to Glenn and Maggie's for a Saturday night sleepover. I've got plans for you."

"Do you now?"

"Mmm-hmm. Noisy plans. _Sweaty _plans."

She took his hand in hers and they started for home.

_Their_ home.


End file.
